Two to Tango
by genericnamehere
Summary: America loses a bet with Canada, and is forced to go to a ball in drag.


Two to Tango

"Oh come on! You've been undefeated the entire time! How could you screw it up now?" America groaned as he sank back in his seat. There wasn't enough time. They'd never turn the game around. Canada cheered a few minutes later as the buzzer went off, signaling the end of the gold medal game.

"Yeah!" A hand slapped America's back hard and he glared up at his brother. "So what was that about your team kicking my ass?"

"We were just having an off day!" America sighed. He knew what was coming next, so he decided to beat his brother to it. "I'm not doing it! I don't even participate in the Commonwealth Games, why would I want to go to your pre-game ball? No way. I want nothing to do with it!" Oh how he wanted to wipe that smug grin off Canada's face.

"Oh no. A bet is a bet. You lost, so you're coming to the Commonwealth Ball as my date…in drag. That's what you get for refusing to face reality." America scowled and turned, stalking out of the room. This would pass. The games were months away. Canada would surely forget about the bet.

America certainly did. Which was why he was confused when Canada showed up at his door a few months later with two plane tickets in hand.

"Uh…hey…going somewhere?"

Canada smirked. "You forgot, didn't you."

America blinked. "…Apparently."

Canada only grinned as he reached out, pulling America out of his house. "Come on. We're going to miss our flight."

America blinked as he allowed himself to be pulled to the waiting vehicle. "Our flight where?" Canada pushed him into the car and waited until they had reached the highway before answering.

"The Commonwealth Ball." It hit America like a ton of bricks: the Winter Olympics; the hockey; the…bet. He groaned and turned to the door, trying to open it. He could totally jump out of the car like they did in the movies. He'd jump, do a barrel roll, conveniently dodging traffic and escape to freedom. All he had to do was get this door open. He jiggled the handle again; it wasn't opening. He turned to Canada.

"Seriously, Canada? Child lock?"

Canada shrugged. "I had a feeling you'd try to escape. Don't you dare kick the door off the car either. I don't care how strong you are, you're not endangering innocent people just because you're too chicken shit to own up to your bets."

"What? The United States of America is not afraid of anything, and I'll prove it by going to your stupid British ass-kissing dance and being the sexiest one there!" Canada just smiled. It was on.

That evening, America walked into the ballroom with Canada, looking around. With his hair teased and feathered into a feminine bob and just enough makeup to disguise the harder edge of his features, he could probably almost pass for a girl. They had even removed his glasses for the night, in an attempt to hide his identity. A shawl was wrapped around his shoulders, hiding their broadness, and a corset bodice helped give the appearance of curves. The only problem he was having was the damned heels. It wouldn't have been so bad if they weren't so narrow that he felt like his toes were going to snap with each step.

Canada led America over to where England was standing with India, this year's host, to greet everyone. America flushed and kept his gaze on the ground, making sure to step on Canada's foot when they stopped. How could he bring him over here? They would recognize him, and it would just be so humiliating! Ugh, he hated this. He was never gambling on anything again! Well, maybe if he was absolutely, positively sure he would win, but otherwise, never!

"England! It's good to see you again." England turned to look at Canada, staring blankly at him for a moment. India nudged him, and America could hear her whisper that it was Canada to him.

"Oh, Canada! You decided to come this year; how wonderful. You really should try to show your support more." Canada sighed, and mumbled about coming to every event. "And who is your lovely date this evening?" Oh, the rat bastard knew who he was, America could tell. He was just rubbing it in! America glanced up, expecting to see the smug, teasing grin on England's face, but none was there. It was more like interested staring. Oh, hell no.

"Oh…this is…ah…Alfie." Alfie? Oh come on, that was a dead giveaway! America glared at Canada, who ignored him as he turned to give his greetings to India. England flushed a bit and nodded to America.

"Well, Miss Alfie. I hope you enjoy your evening."

America cleared his throat and used his best falsetto. "I already am, thank you. Canada is such a gentleman." He tugged on Canada's arm and started pulling him away towards the drink bar. He really needed one already and they had just gotten there.

Canada looked at him when they reached the bar. "Well, you can go ahead and eat and then leave. You came to the ball in drag as my date, so you filled your end of the deal. I have your return ticket sitting on your bed." America nodded as he ordered a drink, downing it as quickly as it came.

"Good. I'm grabbing my free meal and getting out of here then." Canada nodded and walked off to mingle with the other nations in the Commonwealth, and America took a seat, ordering another drink while he waited for the food to be brought out.

He wasn't sure how long he was there, nursing the same drink boredly before there was a tap on his shoulder.

"Pardon, miss. I couldn't help but notice you sitting here, drinking with the flies." America blinked and looked over, staring blankly at Australia. "And I was wondering if you wouldn't give me a fair go on the dance floor." America blinked again. Was he being asked to dance? He turned back to his drink, finishing off the rest of it and looked around. They still hadn't started serving dinner yet, and he was getting bored sitting by himself. As long as he didn't say anything, he might get away with not being recognized. He stood, wincing slightly as the shoes smashed his toes further, and held out a gloved hand.

Australia smiled as he took America's hand, kissing it lightly. "Ah, the silent type, I see. Can I at least be graced with a name?" America ignored the slight tingle as he covered his answer with a cough.

"A-Alfie…" Australia smiled.

"A beautiful name, for a beautiful lady. Shall we?" He led America out to the dance floor, not letting go of his hand as he moved his other hand to hold America's waist. They started moving in time with the music, and America barely noticed as Australia slowly pulled him closer. He never noticed that Australia's eyes were such a clear, shining shade of green, accented by an even tan and broad smile.

"And how did someone as lovely as you get dragged into such a boring party?" America blinked, not realizing he was in a daze until Australia's voice pulled him out of it.

"Oh, I…I came with Canada…"

"Who? Ah, well, it's no matter. What kind of man leaves such a beautiful lady alone," America flushed as Australia leaned in closer, "where I can sweep in and steal her?" His mind was racing a mile a minute. Why was his heart pounding against his chest like this, for Australia of all people? He didn't get crushes on people; he was America! People fell head over heels for him, not the other way around.

He swallowed heavily and started pulling back after the song ended. He needed a drink. Or air. Or both. He wasn't sure. He needed something because he was dizzy, and his chest was fluttering and his feet still hurt. He had forgotten that while he was lost in Australia's eyes, but there was that stabbing sting in his toes, waiting for him to come back to reality. Australia kept a hold of his waist, leaning in again.

"This sort of thing isn't my bowl of rice either. What say we hit the street and find some real fun?" America flushed. Oh great hamburgers in the heavens, was Australia asking him on a date? No, he wasn't asking him. He was asking _her_, Alfie, on a date. Well, technically it was the same person, but the point remained. They never did anything together on a regular basis; barely acknowledging each other. If America left with him like he was proposing, he was going to find out who he was for sure. And then what? He'd just leave him lost in the middle of New Delhi with no idea how to get to the hotel or at least a McDonalds to eat. Did they have those in New Delhi? Sure they did. Everyone had McDonalds.

"O-oh, I don't think that's a good idea…" America quickly started looking around for Canada, hoping for some help. He knew he was panicking, but he didn't want to be discovered; not by Australia. Not like that. There was a sharp pang in his chest as he thought about being abandoned, but he shook it off. He was being ridiculous. This was all just a stupid bet and he was getting caught up on unimportant things. Australia leaned closer, and America shivered as his breath tickled his ear.

"Not even if I told you I knew a place that sold good hamburgers around here?" Oh that sounded good. Wait. America blinked, looking at Australia who chuckled, letting go of his hand to pull America's glasses out of his jacket pocket. Hadn't he left those in the hotel room? Australia released his grip on America's waist to open the glasses, carefully sliding them onto his face. "You look better with them. They're part of your charm."

"Huh…?" Words were failing him. Thoughts were failing. Was his brain finally broken? He was pretty sure it was. Australia's hands moved back to their places, holding him close again.

"I have been trying for _years _to get your attention. I finally had to ask Canada to help me. So, what do you say? Can we give it a burl?" America blinked, nodding dumbly as he took in the information. Australia smiled and leaned in, kissing him lightly. As he returned it, America absently made a note to have Canada change his flight. He'd have to stay and watch the games after all.


End file.
